Circus of Decay

As the ringmaster speaks,
blasphemies curdle and reek.
Twisted jesters morbidly grin,
as the flesh withers within.

Crowds rejoice on demand,
as blood decorates the sand.
A cure paraded as a show,
deceit spotlighted under a heavenly glow.

Jugglers swindle festered truth,
tearing the supple flesh of youth.
Tightropes loosen and bend,
downward spiral to the end.

The circus rages on,
devouring all we scorn.
Decay presented as art,
paid with flesh, sundered apart